


RMAUM: I Hate Remmy Cormo

by zorotokon



Series: Remmy Makes a Mistake [7]
Category: Pack Street - Fandom, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Cum Bath, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23800807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zorotokon/pseuds/zorotokon
Summary: Marty the stoat made only a brief appearance in the Remmy Makes a Mistake series, now years later, as part of a documentary on the life of the recently passed eccentric billionaire Remmy Cormo, the stoat speaks out about the time he engaged in a truly lewd fetish with the famous porn star escort years before he was a house hold name.
Relationships: Remmy Cormo/Marty/Ozzy (Zootopia: Pack Street)
Series: Remmy Makes a Mistake [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/816594
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	RMAUM: I Hate Remmy Cormo

I hate Remmy Cormo. I hate his voice, I hate his walk, I hate his shirts. I hate how he waltzed in here with a holier-than-thou attitude and a stick so far up his ass that the leaves were sticking out his mouth. Most of all, though, I hate how both my roommate and my best friend thought that he was the hottest piece of ass to wander into our den since Avo started streaming.

Ha. He’d got one thing going for him and only one, and that was that if he shuts up, and you don’t look at him, he’s a good lay. If you tell anyone I said that I’ll shove a two liter up your ass, and not the easy way.

Anyway, it’s an interesting story about how I found that out, and seeing as you’re buying the next couple rounds, I figure you’d want to hear it. One day I was walking home from the gym after a quick chat with my sister and the gym bums about some faire thing that was coming up. It was a benefit for the gym. I won’t lie, they’re good kids, and it doesn’t do you any favors to believe any of the stereotypes about the so called Gym Rats.

I got off topic again, so I was walking back from the gym, and I turn to cut through the b court, and what the fuck should I find? Why, only my best friend, a hyena named Ozzy of a musical persuassion, and a sheep named Remmy Fucking Cormo, frotting in the open air like they were in some 80’s exhibitionist porno.

“You know, you can get arrested for doing that in public,” I snarked. The two jumped like they had been caught with their paws in the cookie jar, although they should have jumped like they had been caught with their cocks in the... ass jar. Shut up. Ozzy grinned sheepishly at me, while Remmy glared hyena-ishly just as hard.

Ozzy chuckled.

“Finally screw up the courage to slam the ram?” I asked. It had been the only thing Ozzy had been talking about for weeks, ever since the entire pack learned in an explosive five minutes that not only could the sheep fuck, but he would do it for money. If the price Avo had drunkenly let slip later that night was true, then Ozzy couldn’t afford him. I lost two good bottles of cab sav to that jackal, but you can always count on ol’ Marty for a shoulder to cry several feet above, now couldn’t you?

Ozzy gave me the look. Between preds who had known each other for as long as we had, even a single look could speak volumes. 

I tapped my toe and considered. It was an invitation, a rare one from Ozzy. I don’t know his sex life, but I can’t imagine it was full of gay threesomes in dirty alleyways, but neither was mine. I’m a librarian for Pete’s sake. It’s my sister, not me, who gets numbers vandalized into our books when hopeful teens and creepy geezers return them.

Alright, alright! Back to the good stuff, geeze, you don’t have to yell. From what I’d heard about Remmy, though, a dirty alley with two preds might just be the sort of thing he was into. No cameras though, so he probably wouldn’t showboat too much. I pointed to a more secluded location.

“Uh, what am I missing?” Remmy asked.  _ Uh, what am I missing?  _ I mentally added, mocking the dumb question. God, his head must be full of rocks.

‘“Unless you want asphalt burn on your dick,” I stated, “let’s fuck in this corner, it has grass, and you can’t see it from the street.”

The court was full of the kind of light refuse that the high winds caused by the skyscrapers and tall apartment buildings could bully freely. I inspected a plastic bag, full of cigarette butts. I dropped it and moved on.

Then Remmy made an attempt at humor: “You’ve done it, uh, in the open air before?”

Wait, no, that wasn’t an attempt at humor. That wasn’t even a joke, double entendre, or euphemism. Hell, it was barely a sentence. If I wasn’t thirty seconds from seeing the ram’s legendary pile driver I would have torn his fluffy ass a new one, but even I can be driven by curiosity, and the promise of an eleven inch penis. If the stories about Remmy’s output were true as well, then I could see myself enjoying my time here, and an orgasm would be better than the stunned look on the ram’s face when I chewed him out. Barely better, but better.

“It’s just basic logic, Cormo, if I found you, so can someone else. You’re in a pred neighborhood and musking the place up like you were teenagers trying to get high off $20 of oregano in a dime bag.” It was a good line. I had stolen it from a teen mystery novel that was far too adult to leave in the teen section.

The two disrobed. I would be keeping my clothes on, it was a, uh, learned desire. Then Cormo said something so stupid I will not even deign to retell it here, just know that he will be tried to the fullest extent of the law, and no doubt hung for it post haste.

Ozzy found me a cup. It smelled of stale root beer. Wonderful.

“Ugh, is that the best you could find?” I asked. Ozzy shrugged, a nervous grin slowly creeping over his features. He was rethinking his whole thing, so I had to keep momentum. If the brakes on Ozzy’s train were applied even a little he would freak, and then regret freaking forever. Still, it took all of my love for Ozzy, and my lust for what was to come, to soldier on.

“Well it’s not like I came here to take a bath-” Ozzy instantly started to chuckle, “-I note my word choice, and regret it. Now let’s get this over with before you join Remmy and I in the elocution embarrassment club”

Ozzy and Remmy exchanged a wordless glance that could only have been interpreted as sexy by the most generous scribe, and started fucking. Remmy entered Ozzy, and while I didn’t have a ruler on me, I would be forced to admit that Remmy had been at the most only exaggerating a little. I tutted and Oz lowered the cup for me to get in. He jerked as I stepped and scooped me up. Then came the good part.

Ozzy forced his dick into the cup. There was little room for me in it as was, and the hot throbbing member pushed me against the side, trapping me. My instincts flared and I bit down, lightly, I grabbed the shaft and squeezed. I could barely move in the cup with Ozzy’s huge cock, but this was perfect.

The air was boiling and I was covered in sweat immediately. My clothes were ruined, but that’s because of how dirty I was. I pulled at the cock, licking the tip and what I could reach. I humped against the shaft, my dick still trapped by two layers of clothing. It ached to get free, but it didn’t get to. Ozzy was treating me rough, his thrusts were ragged and uneven, and with every other one I was smashed into the styrofoam. My breath was forced from me, only for the pressure to suddenly release and I gasped in the stench of musk, cock, pre, and sweat. I was in fucking heaven.

Then the best part happened. The part that I secretly lived for. I don’t confide in people about this fetish, but being a small animal has one big advantage. You can be covered nose to tail in cum, and that’s what Ozzy did. His shot was sudden, and I lapped up what I could, letting the rest soak into my clothes and fur. Oh god, I’d stink for weeks, it was revolting, and it was intoxicating. I humped his dick, squeezing out the rest of his cum until I was drenched. Then he pulled me off.

The air was refreshing, but I was still flying at full mast here. I had been this close to cumming too, but it looked like we weren’t done yet.

My prayers were answered as a second dick shoved me against the wall of the cup like I was the last piece of ass at the club. It was hotter than Ozzy’s, and bigger, and slick with lube. I attacked it.

I was in ecstasy, the scent of a male’s musk, the huge member pressed against my entire body, the thrusts almost beating me to death, and then it happened again. I pushed my face into the stream of semen, letting the cum flow around my face, baptising me in it’s salty taste. It was so much I couldn’t breath. I had been nothing more than a living flesh light, just a toy for bigger stronger preds to use and soak in their delicious cum.

The cock disappeared but I didn’t care. I was swimming in the stuff now, the heady stench pushing me against my limit. I grabbed my own dick through my pants and squeezed hard. The rough fabric was the best stimulation I’d ever need, and then it went dark.

Someone shouted and I was thrown up, and then slammed down into the cum. My paw was still on my dick and it shot through, pushing me over the edge. I came hard as I was thrown about in the cup, each second switching from the searing air full of musk, to being fully immersed in the thick mixed cum concoction. I had to fight for every breath as my hips thrust and I came hard enough to shoot through my pants, adding my own cum to my covering. I wasn’t going to get the stench of man out of me for weeks, and that just made the whole thing hotter. I was thrown up and splashed down one last time and I floated there, in blissful, orgasmic peace. Not even the stupid face of Remmy Cormo looking down at me from his worst possible angle could spoil this perfect moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Only much later did Marty realize that he had thought of Remmy as a predator during coitus. He quickly blocked this part out, and refused to talk about it to his dying day.


End file.
